


Aeries

by Bookkeepper



Category: AER: Memories of Old (Video Game)
Genre: Birds, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Fantasy, First Work in This Fandom Apparently, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Original Character(s), Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Post-Apocalypse, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, but it's soft, except canon is ambiguous, it takes a village
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkeepper/pseuds/Bookkeepper
Summary: The gods of old are forgotten, lost in the events that shattered the world, leaving only fragments of islands in the sky.Someday, the world will be healed. But its people need to heal, first.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a medical condition where I only write about extremely niche indie video games.  
> Aer: Memories of Old is a lovely, relaxing game about exploring sky islands. Also, you can turn into a bird. 10/10.

Auk was born in winter. Barnard, who always claimed to know the signs of the Spirits and the Old Gods, said the timing of her birth was a good omen, but few in the clan listened to him. Her birth was celebrated all the same; there were few occasions to celebrate, ever since the Great Divide had shattered the land. She was a quiet baby, but steadfast – hardly ever fell ill, hardly ever cried – and the other parents always told Jacan and Chion how lucky they were.

The islands of their clan were temperate, and quite large, large enough to farm on. The highest islands of the constellation were also near the altitude of the fast winds, and they even had a trio of skyboats. Mayor Ardenna was always quick to remind the community how fortunate they were, and under her leadership they had gradually developed a system of trade with the nearest clans. Barnard claimed that this new time of prosperity had started with Auk, because of the omens. Frega told him it was just as likely it started when Mellis gave up distilling alcohols in his shed.

* * *

As she grew, she developed a boundless curiosity. She sought new experiences with recklessness, sometimes moving too fast for her feet. She stumbled often, though she never let it dampen her enthusiasm. Elvira, the elder, doted on all the children, and would always fuss over Auk when she fell. Auk complained that she was not clumsy, and that it was the ground’s fault for being so grabby.

“The ground is grabby, she says! Oh, what an imagination she has,” Elvira said.

The young families with were given housing on Timor island, the largest one and the heart of the community. Auk and Nomi and Rheif were the youngest for a time, so they often played together (even though Rheif was a few years older), and they became friends in adventuring. The children had free roam of the island, but were forbidden from crossing the bridges to the other islands until they were older – many years ago, a child had fallen off while crossing, and the clan was very protective of the young. Especially as it seemed like fewer children were born each year; but nobody talked about that, too afraid to speak that unspoken fear.

Auk explored the whole island, becoming familiar with every field, every glade of trees, every outcropping of rock. She yearned for the day she would be old enough to explore across the bridges. Her mother Chion dreaded that day, concerned for her daughter’s clumsiness. But Jacan, her father, had noticed a subtle gracefulness to her tripping; for as often as she fell, Auk never seemed to get hurt, at worst escaping with a bruise.

Auk was also good at jumping. She liked jumping from the rocks near the village well, even though her mother chided her for it. Sometimes she and Nomi and Rheif would have contests, as all children do, and Auk always could jump the furthest.

Eventually, Auk and Nomi were deemed old enough to cross the bridges on their own (Rheif had been allowed to for a whole year now, and though at first he did so just to make the girls jealous he more often than not stayed on Timor island to be with his friends). For weeks, the three of them terrorized the clan, racing across from the highest skydock island all the way to the lowest island in the south.

As the range of her explorations grew, so did her boldness. One time, with a good running start, she jumped across the gap from Shad’s island, over the full length of the bridge. She was very proud, even when Nomi told Elvira who told her parents who were very upset and lectured her about being reckless. Then she was a little mad, and said that it wasn’t even that dangerous, and Shad’s island was stupid and should just be a part of Timor island because it’s barely separated, which earned her a lecture on how Mayor Shad was important to the history of the clan and he deserved an island named for him.

Later, she was glad for the second lecture because she asked Elvira about Shad and it turned out she had known Shad when she was young, and the elder was very willing to tell stories about Shad. And the stories were very good, about Shad’s adventures exploring their constellation and planning out the bridges that now brought them together. Auk decided that she wanted to be an adventurer like him when she grew up.

* * *

On one of the smaller islands was the Cliff. It really was part of an ancient stone structure which had collapsed on one side, so you could climb up one side but the other was a sheer drop of perhaps 40 feet. Barnard always said it was part of an ancient temple, one from before the Great Divide even, and would sometimes pray at its base. He yelled when the children climbed on it, but since no one else really believed it was that ancient, they got away with it.

When Auk was twelve, she and Nomi and Rheif invented a game for the cliff. It was called the edge game. They would see who could get closest to the edge of the cliff. It was dangerous, of course, and a bad idea, but the fun was really the thrill of standing near the edge, and nobody really got too close.

“It’s not fair that you always win,” said Rheif.

“I don’t always win,” protested Auk, “Athis wins a lot.”

“That doesn’t count! Athis is too old, and he has bigger feet.”

“He counts, cause he’s not of age yet,” said Nomi.

Auk did win, more often than not by getting so close that the other kids got worried she would actually fall, and at that point they forgot about the game and dragged her back. Auk didn’t understand, really. She never felt that scared of falling. Not even when she snuck out late and eavesdropped as the older teenagers told scary stories of falling off the islands entirely, falling through the clouds below and of what horrible beasts dwelled there. Mostly she thought it was silly – nobody knew what was below the clouds, not even Elvira who knew a lot of things, so it was all just imagination.

Sometimes she dreamed of falling, but not in a scary way. The wind whipped past her, but it felt natural and right and she always enjoyed those dreams (but she didn’t tell anyone. They wouldn’t understand).

And then, one summer day, they were playing the edge game and there was a breeze and she leaned into it, just like in her dreams – because she was curious – but she went just a little too far and-

She tumbled, and there was yelling, and the ground was coming up quite fast. Auk fell, but it wasn’t scary. Well, it was a little scary, and she wished to slow down just a little, to be in the air a few moments longer before the ground grabbed her again. On instinct, she spread her arms, twisting to try and land on her feet.

And the wind caught her.

For a brief moment, the air swirled, tugging at her, slowing her fall, and then the sensation was gone, and she was left standing, unscathed, at the base of the cliff.

Then Nomi was shouting, and the other kids scrambled down the back side, and there was Barnard, coming to yell at them again except it was clear he had seen her fall and she knew he would be extra mad at her and tell her parents. But Barnard did not chide her. Instead he seemed to be staring at her with something like reverence.

Auk was confused, even as she was escorted back to her parents. Chion was very upset with her but also very glad she was okay, and Jacan was very stern and told her she was forbidden from playing on the cliff ever again. But Barnard was saying things out by the communal firepit, and it looked like a lot of the adults were arguing with him. She was grounded and was not allowed to leave the house and had to go to bed early that night, but she was intensely curious, so when her parents left and went to some adults-only meeting at the firepit she snuck out and followed them.

“I’m telling you, the signs are clear,” Barnard was saying. A multitude of voices rose up in response.

“The spirits are gone! You know the stories, how Karah sent them into hiding! You can’t seriously expect…”

“Well, my mother’s mother did always say…”

“Here? Among our clan? The odds of it are astronomical!”

“Enough! Quiet, please,” said Mayor Ardenna, bringing order. “We let the eldest speak first. Elvira?”

Elvira, when she spoke, sounded serious in a way that Auk had rarely heard before. “Are we so quick to deny? Even when I was young I was told stories of those chosen by the Great Bird Spirit. Everyone knows about Karah, the protector. And there have been chosen since her – or do you forget Medvin!”

“I thought Medvin was the last,” someone muttered.

“We know there have been others, rarely, yes, but they exist. But to believe there is one from our clan? To believe my daughter…” said Jacan.

“We could seek out Medvin. Ask him,” said Mellis. “Last month, when I went to Yohal’s Rest I heard he was in that area.”

And then they were interrupted by a noise from the bushes, and it turned out Auk wasn’t the only kid trying to listen in, and she had to sneak back home before she got caught, too. She did not fall asleep for a long time that night, but when she did she dreamed of falling.

* * *

Her parents decided that they could travel to Yohal’s Rest with Mellis, and that Auk could come with them, in order to meet a very special person. She was terribly excited, practically vibrating with joy for the few days it took to prepare for the voyage. She was going on a skyship journey! She would get to be a real explorer! Nomi and Rheif were both intensely jealous.

They set off from the highest skydock island, riding the breeze. Auk wanted to know everything about skyships, and sailing, and asked Mellis a million questions which he was happy to answer. Then she asked about Yohal’s Rest and then about Medvin.

Medvin was a shifter – a person blessed by one of the great Spirit Animals, able to take their form. Auk knew shifters were magic – after all, in the stories Karah was a shifter, and she did lots of magic things. Karah gathered the people after the Great Divide and kept them safe.

She learned Medvin was a bird shifter, and he traveled a lot, aiding many clans and bringing with him stories of the old world before the Divide which he had researched. The last time he had visited the Timor hills (their home), Auk had been too small to remember. This made her even more excited, even though her father reminded her the trip would take a week.

* * *

By the third day of the week-long journey, Auk was getting very impatient. She was also bored, because there was nothing to do on the skyship, since Mellis would not let her help with the sails or the steering or anything. Sometimes they would pass uninhabited islands, and she wanted to go explore them, but then it would take even longer to see Medvin. So she settled for staring at them as they passed, though her mother was upset when she leaned over the edge of the boat for a closer look.

They arrived at Yohal’s Rest near sunset. Supposedly, this area had once been inhabited by Yohal, the wanderer (Auk knew he was mentioned in some of the stories of Karah, but not much else). The constellation was larger than their own, but the individual islands claimed by its people were smaller and rockier. Chion had told Auk that the people here had a hard time farming, but they had plenty of rocks and even some metals which they dug out from the chunks deemed uninhabitable. Thus, Mellis and his apprentices would sail over and trade food for metal every few months.

By now she had built an image of Medvin in her mind. He was probably heroic, and strong, and good, and maybe he had a lantern like Karah always did in the stories. She was a little disappointed to actually meet him. He was old, with a beard just starting to turn grey, with bushy eyebrows. He wore a long green cloak and carried a bag filled with ancient books and scrolls. He looked boring.

But when her parents explain why they had come, how Auk had caught the wind, he looked to her with a warm smile.

“How did it feel?” he asked.

“Easy. Like breathing,” she answered honestly, and he smiled again at that.

“Do you ever dream of flying?”

And at that, Auk had to pause, because only now, when asked, did it occur to her that the falling dream was really flying. Medvin _understood_ , which meant…which meant she was a shifter, like him? A sort of funny, fragile feeling rose in her.

“Yes,” she said, and then told him about the other things, about jumping, about standing on the edge and not being afraid, about how the ground seemed to grab her feet lest she float away. She could see in his eyes that he _knew_ , and that funny feeling blossomed into hope.

Medvin agreed to teach her – though he would still visit other clans, he would stay with her until she was ready. The day after, as Mellis prepared to depart for home, a great owl flew over to the ship. Its feathers were tinged green, and its eyes shone with intelligence. It dove towards the deck, and suddenly there was a twist of feathers, a rustling of robes, and in its place was Medvin.

Auk launched herself at him, enthralled. She wanted to know everything. What was it like? When could she do that? Where did he travel, what stories did he find? She did not stop asking questions the whole way back.

* * *

Her life settled into a new rhythm. She would help in the fields and do her chores and still got to play with her friends, but early mornings were lessons with Medvin. The old shifter still traveled, delivering news and small packages between clans, but never more than a few days passed before he was back.

Auk wanted to learn to shift right away, but Medvin told her there was much to learn before then, to be patient. And she really did try to be patient. She diligently sat with him at sunrise and tried to meditate, to see beyond the veil, whatever that meant. She was not very good at it.

Medvin seemed to realize this, and soon morning lessons became him telling stories. Some were parables, stories with a lesson to teach, but Auk enjoyed the histories more. The tales of how the shifters came to be, forming pacts with the great Spirit Animals, to guide and guard the people. Tales of times before the Great Divide, and after. Her absolute favorites were the tales about Karah.

“Eventually,” said Medvin, “when you are of age, it is expected of you to journey to Karah’s shrine, in the Land of the Gods.”

Auk gasped in amazement. “I get to go there? Where this happened?”

“Of course. There is a pilgrimage – one I myself took, when I was taught.”

“Can I go now?”

Medvin laughed. “I know you feel restless, young Auk. I feel it too – it is the essence of the bird within you. Don’t you worry, though. You have plenty of time, and the shrine will wait for you to be ready.”

* * *

Time passed, and she learned. Medvin taught her to shape the air, pushing herself to jump higher or slowing herself when she fell. It was necessary, he said, to learn control before she could learn to shift forms. On days when her teacher was travelling, she was supposed to practice meditation, and though she tried it was very hard to stay still. She spent a lot of time jumping and hopping and thinking about being a bird, in case that was how she was supposed to shift.

She spent less time with Rheif and Nomi and the others. But that was okay, because being a shifter was a big responsibility, and she was taking it very seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shad is the only historical figure I made up - the rest are all somewhere in the lore.  
> To come up with names, I looked up scientific names of birds!   
> Timor is a reference to a character in Heaven's Vault, yet another niche indie video game.  
> And Nomi is clearly my subconscious trying to get me to write more about the Nomai, from Outer Wilds.


	2. Chapter 2

In the late autumn of her fifteenth year, during one of Medvin’s trips, Auk finished her chores early and, instead of meditating, went off to find her friends. She found Nomi and Rheif out near the skydock, along with Athis and Merope and Turaco and Penelopie, the older teenagers. They were sitting on the rocks, chatting, and when she sat next to Rheif and Nomi they smiled at her, but it was strangely distant.

“It’s a shame we can’t do the edge game, I bet I could still beat you all,” Athis was bragging.

Nomi protested. “No way! Auk is the champion!”

“Auk shouldn’t count,” said Rheif, to her surprise. He sounded bitter about it. Penelopie shot him a look, and he seemed to shrink back. “Just, she did actually fall. And that kind of ended the game, so I don’t think it’s fair.”

“We could start a new game, somewhere else!” said Athis.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” said Auk.

“It was silly and dangerous, anyways,” said Nomi.

“No, we should. I’ll win this time.” And before anyone could say anything, Rheif stood and pointed at the docks, the highest point of the constellation. “I’ll prove it. Up there.”

“Well, let’s go,” said Athis, eager to prove himself champion.

Nomi and Auk and Penelopie tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but they were already walking and Merope and Turaco were following. They reached the docks, where the skyships were tied up, and there were no adults nearby, so Athis and Rheif took turns inching closer to the sheer drop, increasingly theatrical in their movements. Eventually Athis, with his longer arms, reached out and leaned his weight against one of the skyboats in a daring display, resting with a smug grin.

Auk knew Rheif would try it. She told him to stop, to come back – in the back of her mind she realized this was what he must have felt, that day she fell off the cliff – she met his eyes, and in them Auk saw a flash of indignation. Rheif scowled, and leaned out and touched the skyboat.

The weight of both of them combined caused one of the mooring knots to slip, just a tiny amount. The gap between boat and dock widened by a few inches. Athis scrambled, caught one of the ropes, but not Rheif.

He fell.

There was a shocked silence. It was followed by an even more shocked silence as Auk practically threw herself off the dock without hesitation.

She was falling, the air rushing past, and it was like everything she had dreamed, but more. Her eyes caught motion against the clouds below, and she tucked her arms in, streamlining herself so she would fall faster and catch up. Then she would grab Rheif, shift into her bird form for the first time ever, and fly both of them back up to the islands despite having no flight experience. It was not a very good plan, but she did not care.

Auk was getting closer to Rheif. He was flailing about wildly, which was good because that made him drag the air and fall slower, though it was also bad because she didn’t know how she was going to grab him. A moment later, he flipped over in his tumbling descent and saw her above. He started to scream something but the wind snatched it away, and Auk decided to ignore it. She needed to shift. Somehow.

She did not know how long they had been falling. A few seconds, at most ten? They were nowhere near the clouds below, and for the first time Auk realized how vast the sky truly is. She imagined being a bird, covered in feathers. She imagined Medvin shifting forms with the swish of his cloak and the dim glow of divine magic. She closed her eyes and willed herself to fly. Nothing happened.

In her head she pleaded for Medvin, for the great Bird Spirit, for the Ancient Gods. She thought of Karah, who saved so many, and now Auk was sure she would die having saved no one.

Suddenly there was a tiny, golden light in her mind; something new, foreign, but she knew it was a benevolent force because of its warmth. She reached out in her head, as if this was a meditation exercise, and once she reached the speck time seemed to stop. The light took her by the hand and walked ahead, pointing her to something, which was confusing because there was no physical body for either of them in this mental space.

Still, there was something ahead. Auk got the sense that this thing was inside of her, like she was looking in a mirror, but she could not see it, exactly. The light enveloped her, guiding her vision, and for the briefest of moments she _saw_ -

The light vanished, time snapped back, and she was aware again. Auk felt the _thing_ at her core she had glimpsed inside her head, spreading out and filling her entire body with the feeling of a gentle breeze. With a shout, and a spin, and a rush, she felt a gentle distortion of, well, everything.

Her wings caught the air, snapping outwards almost painfully in shock. Her eyes, suddenly more keen, latched onto the figure of Rheif below, and she tipped back into a dive before he fell too far away.

The distance closed rapidly. Rheif was still shouting. Auk focused on grabbing him, darting in close. The first try was a miss, but on the second her talons caught something and she gripped it, hard. She fanned her wings and suddenly the world slipped sideways, as she realized she had no idea how to control this form.

Both of them tumbled together, now. Rheif was screaming more, and Auk wanted to scream back but her body was unable to form words right now. Somehow she righted them, and decided to just flap, really hard, because they were still falling and she needed to fix that first.

So she moved her wings, pushing the air, trying to go up. She felt the strain and tried to ignore it. She kept flapping, pushing, until they slowed and then began to move upwards. But too slowly. It did not feel right, the air seemed too thick, clinging to her and dragging her down. She tilted her head to see their islands far, far above, and realized they would not make it.

Auk could hear Rheif now, and while most of what he yelled swung between profanities and prayers to the Spirits, he suddenly started shouting “There! Over there, there, there!”

Her gaze snapped back down, and she saw it too: a single, solitary chunk of land, off to her left. It was barely large enough to hold a single tree, but it was right at their altitude, so if she could just make it there…

It felt like she was fighting the air the whole way over. She was sure she was doing something wrong, but nothing mattered until they reached the tiny piece of land. It took ages, perhaps longer, but suddenly, on a downstroke her wingtips brushed grass and in her exhausted state she let go. Rheif probably hit the ground behind her, but she was too tired to notice anything except the tree in front of her, and definitely too tired to avoid it, so she didn’t bother.

Her awareness came back slowly, creeping up on her like a sunrise, albeit a painful one. Everything hurt, especially her head. As her awareness expanded, she noticed she was in her own body, and she was in a seated position leaning against rough bark. She managed to open her eyes and saw Rheif in front of her, kneeling next to a pile of dead leaves and twigs (likely pulled from the tree’s autumn foliage).

“Muh?” she managed.

Rheif startled and turned to her. There were some emotions visible in his expression, but it was rather hard to tell because there were now two Rheifs. She closed her eyes.

“Auk!”

The concern in his voice made her try again. This time there was one Rheif, and he looked worried.

“ ’m fine” she slurred, idly reaching a hand up to where her head hurt. He grabbed her wrist gently and pushed it back down.

“Auk, that was,” and here his expression looked complicated again,”…something. But now, just sit there, don’t move. You’re hurt. I’m trying to make a fire, or some smoke, or something, since Mellis always takes a skyboat to search the low islands whenever someone falls, so we can signal him.”

She nodded, but that hurt, so she closed her eyes again for a bit.

* * *

She woke up in a bed. Her parents were there, and so was Frega, the healer, but Rheif was not. That fact bothered her, even through the hugs and tears and very stern words. Frega was adamant that she stay in bed and rest the whole day, and the next day as well. Her parents stayed through the night, but in the morning they had work to do in the fields, so they left as soon as Nomi showed up to keep her company.

From Nomi, she heard how Mellis had found them, how Rheif had explained what happened, and how everyone was very relieved and very thankful.

“Nomi,” she asked, “Where is Rheif now? I haven’t seen him here.”

Nomi almost managed to meet her eyes. “He, well, his father said he’s not allowed to leave Timor island for a long time, maybe a month, because of what he did.”

“Nomi, we both know his father would let him visit if he asked. What is going on?”

Nomi reached for her hand before answering. “Auk, I don’t know for sure. He won’t talk about it. But I think he’s been… upset, or something, ever since you started doing your bird stuff with Medvin. I think you need to ask him.”

After that, more people stopped by to express their thanks, and her bedside was getting very crowded, so Auk complained that her head was hurting (and it still was, a little) and Frega came and kicked everyone out.

The next day she was feeling well enough to get up, and her parents took her home, and they spent a long time talking about how they were worried, and what she did was dangerous, but most importantly they were very, very proud of her. She woke up early the next morning, feeling fine, an so she quietly left and made her way to the eastern point of rock where she would always meet Medvin.

He wasn’t there, which meant he was still travelling. Auk sat facing the sunrise, and tried to meditate, to find that _something_ inside of her again, but there was no light this time and she found nothing. That made her annoyed because she had done it, and now she couldn’t, and that got her thinking about Rheif, and that made her mad at him, for being dumb and reckless and! And him being upset with her and not saying anything, what did she ever do?!

“Relax,” said Medvin from behind her, and she almost fell over in surprise.

“You’re back!” she cried, and leapt up to hug him. She wasn’t sure why she did, but Medvin smiled like he understood it anyways.

“Now,” he said as they sat down, “I hear that this time, you have a story to tell me.”

So she told him. She told him everything, especially about the golden light and the place inside of her, and how she couldn’t see it now.

“Auk, in order to change what you are, you must know yourself.”

“You told me that before! And I know who I am. I am Auk.”

“But you are also a shifter – a whisperer.” He shook his head. “I fear I have misled you. Auk, when I say this is a gift of the Spirits, this is not a gift to you; it is a gift to all of us, the people of the sky.”

“I don’t understand…” she pouted.

He pondered for a moment. “Do you recall the story of Aram? How he witnessed the day of the Great Divide, and what caused it?”

“Yes. The people stopped believing in the Ancient Gods, you said.”

“More than that, Auk. The people stopped believing in each other. It was the hatred and strife in their hearts that shattered the old world. I think you cannot find your center because a thread of that strife is in you.”

Auk looked away. “So I have to go apologize to Rheif, even though I don’t know what I did to make him angry, so really it’s his fault-“

He held up a hand. “You and I, we are meant to gather and guide the people of the sky. ‘You must heal your people to be healed’,” he intoned, as if quoting from one of his ancient scrolls. “That does not mean you have to solve all disagreements. Sometimes, you cannot. Sometimes, hatred is justified. But you must try.”

He left his hand raised (a habit he had developed, to stop Auk from blurting out the answer she thought he wanted, to instead make her stop and think before speaking), then let it drop a few moments later, signaling her to proceed.

“I understand. I can try.” She sighed. “So I guess I need to go talk to Rheif.”

He smiled that warm smile, then gave her a light push with the wind. “Go on then. Shoo!” he said, teasingly.

* * *

She found Rheif in one of their old hiding spots on Timor island. He was a little too tall to hide in those particular bushes now, though. She made sure to walk loudly so he could hear her approach (she found that she naturally walked lightly). He still looked away and pretended not to see her.

“Hey,” she tried.

“Hey, Auk. Nomi told me you’re okay. Thanks for saving me.”

“Rheif, I wanted to talk to you about…” she started, then hesitated, unsure how to describe it.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m sure you’re busy,” he interrupted.

There it was – he was being rude, for seemingly no reason. She refused to take the hint, and sat down next to him.

“Rheif. Hey.”

He did a very good job of ignoring her entirely. Auk decided to try a new tactic.

“So, what did I look like?”

“What?” he asked, clearly not expecting this direction.

“Like, what kind of bird? I didn’t get to see myself.”

That made him annoyed. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I was a little busy at the time, too.”

“Just tell me anything. Like what color?”

“If you want to know, how about you just flap your way over to Nomi, or your parents, or, I don’t know. Someone who cares!” he snapped.

“Well I’m asking because I can’t,” she snapped back.

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t shift again, okay? I tried all morning. Look – “ she took a deep breath, to calm herself, “I came here to talk about…this. What happened to us being friends? When did you stop caring?”

He shot her a dark look. “You stopped first.”

Auk very much wanted to dispute this, but then she imagined Medvin in her head, holding up his hand. She promised to try, and so she would listen, this time.

Rheif seemed to expect her to argue, though, and when she didn’t, it seemed like some of his own anger dissipated. “You just…stopped hanging out with us. You’re always with Medvin, and even when he’s gone you go do stupid bird things.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“What, you didn’t realize? Did you forget that time when I was allowed to visit the other islands, and you and Nomi couldn’t, and I stayed with you guys anyways? I thought you would understand that!”

Auk listened, and she felt shame. This wasn’t what she expected; but it was something she could fix.

“I’m sorry, Rheif. I didn’t even try to understand, because I was too busy trying really hard to live up to the stories, I guess. Like, nobody says it, but they all expect me to bring hope or something, all because I’m the first new shifter in 50 years! I can’t save everyone! I could barely save you.”

She managed to surprise herself, even. She claimed to Medvin that she knew who she was, but those anxieties had just burst out of her without her realizing. It suddenly felt like she would never be ready.

Rheif pulled her from her thoughts by grabbing her hand. “Hey. I guess I didn’t understand either. Sorry,” he said, chagrined.

“So, friends?”

“Friends.”

“Great. Let’s go find Nomi,” she said, springing up and pulling Rheif to his feet.

“Why now?”

“Maybe I want to see my friends, Rheif,” she said, mock-glaring at him. “Come on!”

* * *

They went to pull Nomi away from her weaving, and then Auk lead them both back to the cliff.

“My father will be angry,” said Rheif.

“Only if we get caught,” replied Nomi. “So, what did you want to show us?”

“Well…” began Auk, “Rheif was right. I have been kind of a bad friend. So I wanted to try this, but I also want to be with you guys… ‘You must heal your people to be healed’,” she murmured.

“What’s that?”

“Something Medvin told me. He arrived this morning. The point is, I’m going to try it, and either I do it or I fall on my face, but I’m sharing it with you.”

“Wait you’re gonna fly? Like really? You got it?”

“Just watch out for trees,” Rheif teased, and Auk gasped in fake outrage, and all three laughed, like they used to.

She closed her eyes and looked inside her head, and there it was, blindingly bright – a gift from Illoqui, the great Spirit Bird. “Here goes,” she said, and right as she reached for it, she pushed off from the cliff. Except instead of pushing off, it felt more like the ground had dropped away from under her, like she was floating. She felt the cool breeze inside of her, and spun a quick pirouette of sheer joy, and when she opened her eyes she had wings.

She managed to glide a simple loop around the edge of Cliff island, Nomi and Rheif cheering her on. It was still a little hard to fly up (probably she should have rested more) but she made it back to the top and let go of the breeze inside her, and then she was back and grabbing her friends in a hug.

“A falcon,” said Rheif suddenly, as the pulled apart.

“What?” said Nomi.

“You’re like a falcon. Wings that are wide, and sweep backwards at the tip.”

Auk looked at her arms, then caught herself. She looked between the other two, grinning wildly. “What else? What color?”

“Sort of orange, but also yellow and red and not just one shade. Like all the shades of the sunrise,” said Nomi.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes brimming with happy tears, “thank you. You’re my best friends, and I promise I won’t forget you again.”

* * *

For her birthday that year, Nomi made her a shawl (with help from Elvira). It was vibrant orange, with ochre trim, and embroidered in gold was a modified version of the mark of Karah – the central diamond-shape representing the lantern was the same. However, the wing-bars which flanked it were not flat, but tapered – like a falcon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm real funny how she thought of Karah and then there was a light.  
> Medvin's words of wisdom mostly resulted from trying to describe the major themes of the game.  
> And Auk's little outburst which surprised her also surprised me - I didn't plan on it but after writing it I decided to keep it.


	3. Chapter 3

Flying was amazing.

Auk threw herself into learning as she always did, but flying somehow came naturally to her. In the first weeks, she would follow Medvin, both in bird shape, as he diligently demonstrated how to glide, and bank, and dive properly. She quickly absorbed those lessons, and soon she was flying ahead, trying out loops and rolls which Medvin claimed to be too old for (but she knew he must have tried them, before, or how else would he be able to tell her what it was like?).

Medvin flew with precision, each motion carefully measured, his landings pinpoint. He was slow, but not due to age; rather, his wings were shorter and rounder, built for exceptional control and agility, in a reflection of his personality. Auk discovered this when, one day, she tried to be mischievous and sneak up on him in the air. It turned into a game of aerial tag, one which she still suspected he had let her win. Auk found that her own bird shape was much better at climbing and diving, and swooping, and really good at holding onto speed. Nomi said that reflected her personality too, like how she was good at running into things both on foot and on wing.

Often, she would seek out Nomi to practice meditating, which probably did not help as they could not go five minutes without getting distracted. A few times Nomi joined her. Afterwards, she agreed that it was much too hard to sit still and have a clear mind. Still, Auk noticed that it did become easier and quicker to gather herself, reach within, and shift, the more she practiced. Soon, she could shift on a whim.

Now that she could at least find herself, Medvin had begun teaching her to expand her mental awareness outwards. This was pretty much impossible, she decided, and amusingly enough Medvin revealed he was having trouble, too. In theory, she would be able to sense the presence of the Spirit Animals and their influence, but none of them were here to sense so there was no way to practice. However, Medvin told her she might also be able to glimpse a memory – an echo of a person left in the world. He personally had not experienced this outside of his pilgrimage in the Land of the Gods; the sensation was like a sense of certainty that someone had stood in this same space, in the past. Auk told him that sounded a lot like he was being haunted by ghosts, and he laughed at that.

Medvin had also begun to subtly test her on the histories. Somehow, whenever there was a gathering and the younger children demanded a story from Medvin, he managed to pass it off to her. After the first few times, Auk began practicing her storytelling with Rheif, as she felt she was not very good at it. Her friend also started to tag along when Medvin taught her to read the pre-Divide dialects in writing, since he had recently developed an interest in history. It turned out Rheif was a fast learner when it came to languages, so he often helped her study the older, blockier style of writing the ancients used.

And sometimes, she joined the other children, laying in the soft grass and cloudgazing, content to be just Auk, not Auk-student-of-Medvin, or Auk-the-shifter, or Auk-the bringer-of-salvation (Nomi created and enforced a strict policy of ‘no shifter talk’ during these times, which Auk was grateful for). For a while, it was peaceful.

* * *

Times changed. Rheif was learning to sail with Mellis. Nomi began to master her craft, as Elvira began to complain her hands were getting too old for weaving. Medvin was getting old, too; his beard was now fully white, and he sometimes used a cane. But he could still fly the same. Auk flew with him, on his short trips to the nearby clans, and she met new people and learned new things, and saw how she could help these people to stay connected.

She noticed when clans began to complain of mysterious black rocks, appearing from nowhere overnight. It was not limited to one area, either. The phenomenon seemed to be happening everywhere at once. Medvin announced he would depart on a longer trip, to the clans further out he had not visited in some time. Privately, he asked Auk to stay and keep watch over her home region. They told no one what they knew of the rocks, for in truth they knew very little. Auk and Medvin had seen the black rocks in person, and found that they were wrong; they came from beyond the veil, something only the shifters could perceive. Other than that, they could tell nothing. But even the people who could not sense their otherworldly nature were disturbed by the rocks.

* * *

Medvin returned the day after one of the rocks claimed a life. One of the herders found a Llamba, encased by dark, smooth stone. It was very quiet that day.

Auk waited for Medvin to carefully climb the rock where they always watched the sunrise. He sat next to the young woman, appraising the dark tattoos on her forearm which signified her coming of age.

“It is worse than I thought,” he said. “Not a single place I have flown is without the black rocks.”

Auk had once been excited for this moment. Now, she dreaded it – in stories, the young hero would set out on a journey to vanquish evil. To begin her own journey felt like it was inviting a great evil to reveal itself, somehow. Medvin knew it as well – he was her teacher, her friend, her confidant, and she had told him of her anxieties. He did not pressure her, though. He could never.

“Then I am ready,” she said, voice shaking, “to begin my pilgrimage.”

Medvin nodded solemnly. “We should depart soon, before winter arrives.”

They both knew it was not the true reason for their haste.

* * *

Their journey to the Land of the Gods was not terribly eventful, if one did not count the prevalence of dark stones. They reached the borders of what would have been the land mass before the divide within a fortnight.

Towards sunset, Medvin directed them towards an island with a dark obelisk that seemed suspended in midair. Auk, curious, swept out and made a close pass to inspect it. It was not the same dark stone – it did not give off the same sense of wrongness. Instead, she felt a distant buzz of dormant power. She resolved to inspect it more closely later, and followed Medvin to land in the center of a very small settlement on one edge.

A tall, gangly man quickly materialized from the nearby house. “Medvin, old man! It’s been ages!”

“That it has. I am glad to see someone still maintains the shrine, John. This one,” he gestured to Auk, “has kept me very busy.”

John looked at her with the sort of hope in his eyes that Auk had long since resigned herself to.

“A new one? About time, too; I almost thought you’d be the last person through here!”

Pleasantries were exchanged, and John insisted they stay the night after their long flight. Once, he explained, there had been a whole village of people here, to maintain the Shrine of Karah, and the Lighthouse (the name of the obelisk). But as time went on, and fewer and fewer people arrived to take their pilgrimage, the population dwindled. Currently, only John and his family remained.

* * *

Early next morning, John set off in a skyboat – more of a skiff, really – for the large island to the south, to light the lanterns in the shrine. Despite her misgivings, Auk was nearly vibrating with excitement. She would get to see Karah’s Lantern! Walk the same path as hundreds of shifters had before!

Eager to start, she flew over to the other island as soon as John returned and sat herself down by the entrance to the shrine. Medvin joined her.

“Auk, listen. I know you are eager to explore, but the pilgrimage is important to the People of the Sky,” he intoned gravely. Then his voice turned mischievous. “I could repeat the whole story to you, as my mentor told me on my pilgrimage, but I think you know it well by now.”

“But you tell it so well,” pleaded Auk.

“Mhmm. Well, the short version, then.” He cleared his throat.

“As you know, in the early days before the great divide, the lands were very different from now,” he spoke slowly and solemnly. “Instead of islands in the sky, the lands were one, and the ancients inhabited the world. They built great structures. Among them, three temples here in the Land of the Gods. Your journey will lead you to all three of them. After the Divide, the Priestess Karah prayed by the Lighthouse,” and he indicated the distant obelisk, “and found answers that helped our people survive the great cataclysm. And so, the first stop for every pilgrim is to visit Karah's shrine.”

He let his words hang in the air for a moment, for extra gravitas. Then he gave her the same warm smile from when they had first met. “So go on in, Auk. I will wait for you here.”

Auk was already on her feet, walking into the shrine.

* * *

It was carved from the rock of this island, but the torches lit the walls with a cheerful glow. Auk took her time, trying to absorb every inch of the place, running her hands over the ancient inscriptions carved in stone. At the last one, she paused.

‘ _Enter the Hall of Memory, where sleeps the Light of Karah. It never went out while she was alive. Ask, and maybe it will shine forth to answer you,_ ’ it read. Ahead, the corridor opened up into a large chamber. At the far end was a statue of Karah, surrounded by lit candles, the Lantern, dark, resting in its cupped hands.

As she approached, Auk felt echoes around her – just as Medvin had described, it was only a subtle awareness of the people that had stood here. It was comforting, though, to know she was not alone in here, even if they were only memories. She lit a piece of incense at the altar, and turned her awareness inwards, to pray.

 _What do I seek?_ , she thought to herself. _What answers do I need?_

And then, before she could stop it, the thought arose in her mind:

_Am I the last?_

She pushed it down, but then –

A mote of golden light. Familiar. The same light she found the very first time she flew. She reached out for it, again, but this time it seemed to retreat from her. Disappointed, she opened her eyes – and nearly fell over in surprise.

Karah’s Lantern now glowed with that same light. It felt as if it beckoned her. Auk could not decide if she was excited or terrified when the Lantern began to hover, leaving the statue behind to float serenely in front of her. She reached out with one shaking hand to grasp the handle –

**DARKNESS.**

She was elsewhere, a dark place. The Lantern was the only light. Around her was that feeling of wrong-ness from the ominous black stones, but stronger, suffocating her.

Something stirred, out in the darkness. An awareness could see her, lit by the light and it was

**RAVENOUS.**

**ALL-CONSUMING.**

Then she was back in the Chamber of Memory, holding Karah’s Lantern. By the Gods, she was **holding Karah’s Lantern!** Shaking off the vision, she turned, then froze.

She could **_see_** the memories. The glow of the Lantern was lighting up ghostly, insubstantial figures. People kneeling, praying. It was mesmerizing, like she was reliving the past. She tried to touch one, and though her hand touched only air, she could feel a glimpse of the person’s thoughts – their joy, their nervousness.

Then the ground began to shake. And it kept shaking, and she watched, horrified, as a spire of oily black rock grew out of the ground before her eyes, toppling the statue. The shaking intensified, and Auk turned and ran as spines began to jut out of the walls, the floor, everywhere. She kept running, faster and faster, the entrance was just ahead, she could see the sunlight. She leapt, pushing herself with the wind, not bothering to cushion her landing as she normally would, as the black rocks sealed over the entrance.

Medvin was by her side in an instant. “Auk! Are you okay? Thank the Gods, you’re all right. What happened?”

She began to explain how the whole place had collapsed around her, but was interrupted by her mentor’s startled gasp. She was still clutching the lantern, and it was still lit.

“Karah’s Light,” he murmured. “It shines for you.”

She then told him of her vision, and how she could see the memories. There were a few here, outside the temple, but Medvin could not see them even as she held the Lantern up to them. She tried giving him the Lantern, but it went dark as soon as it left her hands.

“I think you are meant to keep it safe, Auk,” he said.

“What do I do now, then? The shrine is collapsed.”

He pondered for a moment. “Auk…I think you must continue your pilgrimage.”

She knew him well enough to catch the hidden meaning to his words. “Alone?”

“I…think this is beyond me. We should ask John, and Daina, his wife. They will have archives related to the shrine; perhaps this has happened before.”

She shot a pointed look towards the entrance, now impassable. “Before, you say.”

He chuckled. “The Lantern, I mean. The rest, I fear, is part of something…worse.”

* * *

Daina and John were similarly shocked as Auk relayed what she had seen. The lanky man took the two shifters to the archives, a small study under a deep overhang of rock. There, they found a handful of accounts of the Lantern glowing – but nothing of it moving on its own. Medvin decided to investigate the very oldest records, then, but those were faded and crumbling and difficult for him to make out, let alone for Auk, who still stumbled over the ancient dialects.

Medvin, ever-observant, suggested that she take a break while he and John strained their eyes.

“Daina can suggest some places of particular interest to an explorer such as yourself,” added John.

Auk found her and her daughter Erin next to the well. Erin was very excited to meet someone new (and a shifter, that was extra exciting), and her enthusiasm and endless questions reminded Auk of her own childhood. Eventually, she managed to ask Daina about where to visit. The older woman spoke of the impossibly vast water of Twilight Lake, the spectacular Windsong Falls, and myriad other locations with such detail that Auk found herself seized by the desire to see those places for herself. But first, she climbed up the hill to the Lighthouse.

The black rock still hummed with hidden power, but it was not malicious. The obelisk hovered in the air, high enough that she could walk underneath. After much prodding and poking, she found it to be immovable and immutable. It certainly didn’t light up, like she expected of something called the Lighthouse. She left, unsatisfied.

* * *

It turned out Medvin had found an intriguing history of the Old Gods, and something about how they related to the Lighthouse. They discussed plans that evening; Medvin wanted to stay and work on translating, and he urged Auk to continue on her own.

“After all, I would only slow you down, hm?”

She nodded; she had made many trips on her own before, and besides, it would be a good distraction. “So where is the nearest temple?”

“That would be in Twilight Lake,” said Daina, “Though you don’t have to go there first. There’s plenty to explore.”

“Be careful heading north, though,” interjected John, “the cold air has been moving south each year, and last time I traveled that way I found there’s a near-constant blizzard past the King’s Pass.”

Erin was happy to tell Auk all about the time she got to visit King’s Pass with her parents, to the point where her mother had to practically drag her to bed.

* * *

Auk departed next morning, her pack full of supplies, and Karah’s Lantern on her belt. Curiously, she noted that she could not feel its weight when flying, unlike other objects she carried with her when shifting. She had decided to start small – the Windsong Falls were close, just a few hours flight.

She caught her first glimpse, emerging from a cloudbank. It was magnificent. Waterfalls cascaded down, falling endlessly to the bottom of the world. The centerpiece, a tall island with the ruins of an ancient tower at its apex, had multiple tiers, water pooling at each level. Auk flew through the spray of water, delighting in the spectacle of it all. Eventually, she found a spot to make a small camp, then set out to explore on foot.

There were memories here, too. In the Light of the Lantern, she saw pilgrims, but also people from before the Great Divide. She also saw people who seemed to be walking through one waterfall, which was suspicious. Further investigation revealed a hidden cave, full of memories standing in front of a stone pedestal. She held the Lantern out to light it up, but doing so seemed to awaken the pedestal – a glowing rune, three vertical lines, rose from it and hovered. It seemed to interact with the Lantern, somehow, before vanishing.

Thoroughly confused, Auk turned to exit the cave and just about jumped out of her skin. Waiting by the entrance was the Spirit Fox.

“Hello, little wanderer,” she said. To the tips of her ears, she was as tall as Auk, and her fur was colored an ethereal silver. Her twin tails twitched in amusement.

Auk was speechless.

“You took your time,” the Spirit continued, “Were you perhaps led astray? Or merely following the slow one?”

Auk managed to find her voice. “I- what- you mean Medvin?”

“Yes, the one you call Medvin. Slow as few shifters I have met. Slow especially, for a Bird. But sharp - intelligent.”

She had no response to that.

“Do you know what it is you found? You hold both Light and Key, to lead you into Twilight.”

“Twilight,” she took a half step forwards, “as in Twilight Lake? Do you know what is happening?”

But the Fox was wily – it was her nature, after all. “You will visit the temples. You will find more answers there. Go now, bird-faster-than-Medvin.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Auk knew better than to disrespect a Spirit. But she still had so many questions! She slowly exited the cave, glancing back only to find the Spirit was gone.

She returned to her little camp to find a scroll among her belongings, one that definitely had not been there before. With a suspicious look behind her, she began to read.

‘I am Aram, and I was there on the day of the Great Divide,’ it began. Auk faintly wondered if she could go even a minute without being surprised. She read how a terrible brightness filled the air, and the ground shook. How Aram had found the Lighthouse intact, how he had found the Priestess Karah with the air around her glowing golden bright – but it came from her, not the Lantern. He watched from a distance as Karah spoke something to the Spirit Animals, congregated by the base of the Lighthouse, and when she finished, they bowed their heads and vanished, all at once.

The next morning, she made a decision. She meditated, searching for the sensation of the Spirit Fox. She couldn’t find it, but she did find a similar sense, tugging her southeast. Likely another Spirit Animal, then. Perhaps they would have answers.

She flew quickly, but not with haste, stopping several times along the way to explore a few islands. Eventually, she came to an area of empty sky – but there was something in the distance. A black tower. As she approached, she saw that its top extended up above her, but its base continued down, seemingly infinite, disappearing below the lowest cloud layer. Perhaps there was a ground down there, that served as its foundation. It was three-sided, and it was made of the same material as the Lighthouse, dark stone that hummed with something hidden. One corner had a notch carved out, angular and precise, forming a balcony of sorts. She did not land.

Past the monolith, she began to see distant islands, and adjusted her course, ignoring the unease which suffused her being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the obligatory “vaguely plausible explanations for game mechanics”!  
> Somewhere in the lore it says shifters can ‘see beyond the veil’ so I just decided to run with it. Then I decided the Lantern is like an amplifier for that. Because reasons.  
> Also, now I can start stealing dialogue from the game! Much easier than writing cryptic stuff on my own.


	4. Chapter 4

Auk flitted between islands of what must have been a vast forest, when the world was whole. Trees covered every inch, and they were larger than any trees she had known. There was one tree that dwarfed all others, its canopy sprawling across the sky like a cloud. That was where the Spirit Animal was, she could sense it. It seemed like the kind of place one would find a Spirit Animal.

There were dark rocks here, as they were everywhere, but these islands were more heavily populated with animals – and more than a few rocks seemed to have claimed a life. When she meditated to locate the Spirit Animal here, she could feel the dark rocks too – and there was something more to them, a feeling of hunger. It was clear they were linked to the entity from her vision. But closer to the Spirit, was something else, steeped in the energy of the Veil.

She searched the base of the great tree, looking for a way in, but there was an ancient gate sealing the way forwards. Investigating, she found it was linked to several other ancient structures on nearby islands. Experimentation revealed that all would have to be activated, but there was a time limit. She would have to be fast.

She could do fast.

Memories lingered near the structures, too. They radiated strife and hurt and confusion. One in particular was loud, giving off so much betrayal she could almost hear an ancient voice. _The old gods are gone! God-King Koroku is the only God now. Stop clinging to the old ways!_

Even as she swept through the trees at tremendous speed, dodging and weaving her way to each mechanism in turn, that stuck with her. Soon, though, the Ancient gate was open, and she entered the heart of the great tree.

Inside, she found the Spirit Stag. He was tall, with a magnificent crown of antlers, decorated with golden leaves. His very being shone with the soft pink of a sunset. At present, though, he was caged by the hungry black rocks.

He seemed to notice the Lantern, though. “Karah? …is that you? No, that can’t be right.”

“How can I free you, Spirit,” she called, hoping it could hear.

“I need to get out. Out. I am weak…it’s the rock; it’s not of this world.”

“How?!” she yelled.

“There is a rift…it must be closed.” He pointed with his antlers.

Auk turned, and instinctively flinched away. It was a rift, for sure, but not in the tree or soil or rock. Her eyes refused to see it, so she turned to her inner sight. It was a rift in the fabric of the world, a hole punctured in the Veil. She got the impression of a starry expanse, but it felt like nothingness. How was she meant to fix this?

The golden light sparked in her mind again, and she listened. She held up the Lantern, and something happened – it was almost as if it came from the Lantern itself – reality twisted, and with a terrible thing-that-was-the-opposite-of-a-noise the rift sealed.

“You did it. I feel much better already. I was beginning to fear a fate where I would fade away.”

“Spirit, what has happened here?”

“Koroku's men took hold of my home. They wanted the magic of this place. I fought for so long, but I am just one, and they were so many. At least I kept the most important secret, and it is the one you seek, isn't it?”

That just brought more questions. “I seek answers,” she said.

The Stag laughed. “Then you will need this key, won’t you.” A glowing double-chevron rune appeared, and again the Lantern seemed to receive it.

“What key? I don’t understand.”

“You will need the keys to unseal the temples. They were hidden, long ago, to try and protect them from Koroku’s greed.”

“Koroku?”

“A tyrant and zealot. But for all his evils, he was merely the symptom of a greater ailment.”

“What ailment? The black rocks?”

“It is not my place to say. The rocks, however; the rocks are an extension of the Void.” Auk shivered at the name. “It is desperate to consume everything, and I fear that may happen soon.”

She wanted to ask more, but the Spirit interrupted. “Child, I am weary. I must rest now. If you seek answers, the Fox’s den is north of here; she will know more than me.”

Auk carefully bit back her irritation – she would not insult a Spirit. So instead, she gave a respectful bow. “Thank you, Spirit.”

“I should thank you, child. I hope you find what you seek.”

* * *

When she emerged, it was dark. She found a small clearing and made it her camp. She did not need a fire, since it was warm, and the Lantern’s light was more than enough to read by. She re-examined Aram’s scroll, and considered writing down her own experiences, to try and make sense of all she had been told.

“Ah, my friend! What leads a bird to the east?”

Auk whirled at the voice, and was unable to suppress the irritation on her face when she saw the Fox.

The Spirit laughed at her. “Do not worry. I am not offended; I am probably poor company, having spent so long alone.”

“Are you lonely, Spirit?”

“That is a question for another time. I did tell you, there are answers buried in the temples.”

Auk tilted her head. “And I need the keys. The Stag gave me another; which temple is it for?”

“The temple in the east. The Eastern Steps.”

“Thank you for your help, Spirit,” she said, still trying to be polite.

The Fox gave her a funny look. “For now, I leave you with this: How come temples lead downwards, when people look up to the sky for answers? It has eluded me for centuries. But that's fine. Humans are special creatures to say the least.”

And with that, the Fox was gone.

* * *

She went west, back towards the Windsong Falls and the Lighthouse. The Twilight Lake was west of that.

The first indication she was close came in the form of a series of islands, all with a curious ravine carved in the rock. As she flew over, she could see they formed a broken line. It wasn’t until she found one with a collapsing bridge over the ravine that she understood – this was once a river, a flowing body of water that connected lakes, from when the land was whole. She tried to imagine it.

The ancient river led her to the lake. It was the largest single island she had ever seen, and it was almost entirely water. Where there once must have been rivers, water poured off the sides in an endless cascade. She flew low over the water, allowing her wake to cause ripples in the surface. Near one shore, a stone pier led to a circular pagoda, out on the water. It had to be the temple.

The Lantern lit up memories of pilgrims, but also of refugees – people seeking refuge in the immediate aftermath of the Great Divide. Symbols of the sun and moon, always in pairs, were everywhere. There was also a dias with the three-lined rune on it, so she stood there and held up the Lantern, which presented the Key.

The floor split open with a deep rumble, revealing a spiral staircase down. She entered the temple.

* * *

She walked slowly, breathing in the joy and wonder and relief and sadness of the mass of Memories. This place was truly Ancient – it had been old, even before the Divide. Parts of it crumbled, and plants grew in the damp where the walls and floor had cracked.

Auk explored everywhere. A statue of Karah stood in the main hall, welcoming her. Its vast halls of carved stone echoed with the Memories of a weary people. She passed a circle of figures, dancing to a long-forgotten song. Her ancestors must have come from here, she realized – the histories of her clan said they had been founded by settlers from Karah’s sanctuary. This must have been it.

She also found books – a whole library, created and left here by the refugees. She recognized many, from Medvin’s histories, and there were a few that could have been copies of the books in his collection. Here were the annals of Yohal, who led his people to the sanctuary, then wandered the skies, searching for the Spirit Animals. But there were more entries beyond what she knew – there was a whole volume written by Reya, Yohal’s daughter.

It made reference to the sickness of dark rocks, but they were only seen twice in her time. They must have multiplied since then. It also told of Karah, and mentioned that the Priestess had had a child. Auk paused at this. It was strange, to read about Karah from the people that knew her. They spoke about her as a person, not some distant legend.

She ventured deeper, and found sadness. In a small dead-end chamber, there was a sarcophagus. On its side was the mark of Karah. For a moment she could not tell if the grief she felt was her own, or came from the memories here – likely both. Sitting on top, though, as if it were placed there for her, was a final book. She opened it, and traced the runes delicately with her fingertips, to make sure she read them correctly. ‘I am Karah, Priestess of the Thunder Isles, from the South…’

The first entry described how Karah had traveled to the Lighthouse, before the Divide, to go on her pilgrimage. She had a dream, or a vision, or something – she had met a God, and it warned her of the coming of the Void.

Auk stopped there, realizing she had spent a whole day inside the temple. She tucked the book carefully into her pack, and returned to the main hall, to eat and sleep surrounded by happier memories. But something drew her back to the tomb, the next day. She felt a pull towards the back wall, and when she touched it, it was not a wall, but a Gateway. She stepped through.

* * *

Her inner sight overwhelmed her the moment she did. She shivered, knowing that she was in the presence of a God. She stood on a terrace, jutting out into a vast sky that could not possibly fit inside the temple. The divine realm held distant clouds, tinged pink-orange in an eternal sunrise. And ahead of her:

A cloaked figure, hovering in between two gigantic hands of stone. Each hand held a celestial body in its palm; the sun and moon. Its face, if it had one, was obscured by its hood and mask.

Auk stepped forwards, and it spoke.

**Come here, little bird.**

**A very long time ago your people addressed me as the Guardian of Twilight.**

**Sitting at the border of dusk and dawn, ensuring safe travel on the paths to the land of dreams and back again.**

**Even after the Great Divide I was there, watching as your Priestess Karah led her people to safe shores here in my temple.**

**A long time have I waited for this moment to come. I have grown weak but for the power I was lent, tethering me to your world.**

**Once again the Void has awoken with great hunger. This time to devour what is left.**

**But there is still a chance to stop it. Karah hid three fragments of a greater power, one in each temple.**

**You have to make the three fragments one.**

**I will give you the part I was given.**

**Without it, I will fade into Oblivion. It has been my link to this world since the time the gods were lost to the minds of man.**

**But we cannot wait...please accept my fragment, and finish what was started so long ago.**

Auk felt a rush of power, deep in her bones, and for a brief moment, she caught a glimpse of the world as the Gods see it – but she couldn’t retain it. The Guardian of Twilight dropped the sun and moon, then clasped its hands together, and then crumbled into nothing.

And suddenly, she was back outside the temple. Small frogs chirped from the lake, and she looked down at her hands, but they were the same. Had it been a vision? A dream, like Karah? She looked behind her at the temple entrance.

It was sealed over by a spire of black Void-stone.

* * *

Shaken, she retuned to the Lighthouse. She told the others what she had seen, how she seen Spirits and spoken to a God. Medvin tried to reassure her, but she saw the fear in his eyes. Fear for her, certainly, but also fear of her (of what she was becoming). She could not stay. She left as soon as possible for the Eastern Steps.

* * *

She passed through the ruins of Onn, the holy city. It was impossibly vast, even in its shattered form. She wondered what it had been like whole. She glided softly down long avenues, marveling at the buildings, all ruined now. The memories here were not pleasant; she gathered that Koroku had claimed the holy city, and when the people tried to deny him, he sent his armies to destroy it. Any pilgrims that had traveled here after the Divide had not lingered long enough to leave an impression, and neither did she.

The temple of the Eastern Steps was, to put it lightly, imposing. A sprawling, grand mechanism was the only way she could describe it. A grand staircase led up to a central platform, surrounded by seven spokes, like a wheel. A giant chain ran along each spoke, rusted but still whole. Alongside the praying memories of pilgrims, she saw echoes of what looked to be soldiers – same as the ones from Onn – dragging away robed priests. She could feel their protests. _Let go! These are holy grounds! You cannot dig here!_

She presented the Lantern on the dais marked with the double-chevron rune, and the chains began to move, pulled by towering winches at each terminus. The noise was incredible, as the ancient machinery came to life. On the central platform, a shaft unsealed and a large platform rose from deep underground to rest level with the top of the stairs. Cautiously, Auk stepped onto it.

The platform descended with a deafening clatter, as the top of the shaft re-sealed above her. That, more than anything, made her nervous. She had developed a certain anxiety of closed spaces, perhaps as a response to her exploration of the open skies.

This temple, too, was Ancient. Statues of figures whose names and stories had long been lost lined the halls. But on top of that were clear signs of desecration. Crates of mining equipment were stacked in corners, bearing the mark of Koroku. There were also strange machines, made of gears and pipes and anchored to the walls with metal fastenings. She reached an overlook, a giant courtyard that showed many levels below her. A gigantic drill had been assembled, hanging in the once-open space.

Following the staircase that wrapped around the edge, she descended. On each level, there were huge archives, walls lined with scrolls, larger in diameter than her head, stacked neatly. Every single one that she examined was written in a language she did not even recognize. The very lowest level had been pierced through. Some memories were excited by this – there was apparently a source of power down here that they coveted? She entered the natural caves that ran below.

There were more pipes and mechanisms here, whose function she could not even begin to grasp. And there was a great door, a metal construction sealed with multiple locks. On a hunch, she peeked with her inner sight – and sure enough, the Gateway lay beyond it. Koroku’s men had found their power source. Clearly, they had been unprepared to find a God, and tried to seal it away.

It was the work of many hours to restore power to the door locks, backtracking through the temple and messing with mechanical devices, and more than once she wished she had someone with her to help. But once she did, the sealed door sprang open with ease.

This time, the gateway opened to a realm of dusk. Trails of light flew through the air, like shooting stars. Auk approached the terrace, and as she did a massive stone stele lazily floated up from the depths. Trailing behind it was a tapestry of dreams, woven from the dark sky. A vertical slit of glowing light appeared, and seemed to focus on her.

**So the time has come, finally.**

**This marks the time for the Keeper of Dreams to wake from this daydream, and to resign.**

**How could I protect your people from the nightmares that lurked within their dreams as you ceased to believe in me?**

**I doubt you will be able to overcome the shadow that lurks in your world, little human; there is a shadow in every human as well.**

**A shadow called emptiness, that cannot be filled with power nor possessions. Shallow minds led the way for the Void to come into existence, eating everything away.**

**The Creator had to sacrifice itself to lock away the ravenous Void. And the lands were shattered in the Great Divide.**

**Heed my word, little human. Will you be able to make the fragment whole before the Void finds you?**

**For myself, I claim the deep sleep, and leave my concerns to you.**

**I am free.**

Its words were troubling. The Void came from within? How? Why? The Creator? She could not ask; instead, the fragment of power flowed into her, and again she saw the world, and again it was gone. The Keeper of Dreams went dark, and then fell away.

The temple was once again consumed by the Void-stone as soon as she re-appeared outside it.

* * *

All that was left was to travel north. On one island, she found a mural, a map of the old world. There were numerous cities in the Land of the Gods, several in the empty skies she had flown through to get here. She could not imagine the suffering that must have occurred in the early days after the Divide.

On another island, she found a shrine to the Spirit Bird. It was a massive birdhouse, serving as roost for hundreds of songbirds. She joined them as they flew in flocks, but even acrobatic antics could not distract her from the dire proclamations of the Keeper of Dreams. Shallow minds, shallow hearts. ‘ _You must heal your people to be healed,’_ she thought. It was starting to make sense. ‘ _Koroku’s greed, a symptom of a larger ailment.’_

That night, she slept at the foot of the shrine. She did not dream.

Auk woke to birdsong, and set off without fanfare. From a distance, she saw the Split Mountain, shattered into needle-like vertical slivers. The air turned brisk. She knew the last temple was much further, past the blizzard of the Howling Peaks, but she suspected she would find the Fox’s den here.

She was correct. Late in the afternoon, she found a small crevice in the largest fragment of the mountain, and once she slipped inside, she found the Fox, curled up by a campfire.

“Hello again, my wandering friend. How kind of you to visit an old fox's den. It's quite empty, don't you think? The land, I mean. Not as many animals anymore, nor as many spirits. But there were once more, see.”

The Spirit Fox told her of the Fish, whose last gift was to bring endless water to the shattered islands of the sky; of the Bird, who guided the last Priestess to the Lighthouse just in time for the Great Divide. Auk listened intently, far into the evening, but at last she needed rest.

“I have two last questions for you,” said the Fox. She expected this.

“Why the Great Divide? And why you?”

“I have asked those myself. I think I may be able to answer the first soon.”

The Fox nodded. “Wander in search of answers, little one. Thank you for your company.”

When she woke, she was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting more condensed, now. There's a lot of stuff to explore in the game and including all of it would take too long. Besides, this is meant to be about Auk's journey as a person.  
> The magical realm of each god is probably the most visually striking part of the game. I can only hope I did it justice.  
> I found that 'stele' is a great word for a large stone that lacks the ominous feeling of 'monolith'. Also, the Keeper of Dreams is my favorite - it's so totally done with the petty concerns of humans. It just wants to sleep. I feel that, magic floating rock thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending spoilers, obviously.

She returned to the Lighthouse again, to speak with Medvin and the others, and to prepare for the journey into the frozen north. John was enthralled by her story, genuinely enthusiastic to be present, more or less, for such a historic occasion. Daina offered her sympathy.

“It seems like a rather trying experience. You can rest here, you know. As long as you need.”

“Thank you. I will stay another day or two, but I feel like I must do this soon.” She still felt the weight of their expectations, but that was okay. She told herself she was getting used to it.

Erin, clearly inspired by Auk’s fantastical tales of Spirits and Gods, tried to sneak off in the skyboat by herself the next day. Auk went to retrieve her, and talked to her about being reckless, and she realized that if her parents could hear her now they would laughing at the irony of it. She missed home terribly.

Medvin, meanwhile, had deciphered most of the old records by now. From his demeanor, they were not very encouraging.

“Auk, I am afraid this only raises more questions. The old Gods you have found,” and he shook his head, still amazed, “are not the original Gods. This writing, here, refers to them as Caretakers, and implies that another, older God created the world and left it in their care.”

“The Keeper of Dreams mentioned a Creator,” she said. “This Creator supposedly sacrificed itself to save us from the Void.”

“Hrmm. Quite possibly; I haven’t translated that far yet. There is no temple for this Creator, as they simply inhabited the world. But there is a shrine for them, and it is undoubtedly the monolith to the east. See here, this passage? ‘The Lighthouse shone a brilliant beam, and a monolith, taller than ten of the tallest spires of Urzha appeared before my eyes.’”

“But the lighthouse is not shining today. How has the shrine appeared?”

“I think it has been here ever since. I certainly saw it on my pilgrimage, though I did not understand its significance.”

“Did they say anything more about the Caretakers?”

“Well, I have also been reading the annals of Karah which you found. As far as I can tell, she was the last person to stand before the Caretaker Gods.”

Auk nodded. “She gave them fragments of some greater power, to keep safe. I think the entity – the Void – desires that power. Each time, after they gave me the fragment, the rocks consumed their temples right away.”

* * *

She traveled through King’s Pass, flying north until she began to see snowfall. Stopping for a short rest on a small island, she wrapped her orange shawl tight around herself to ward off the chill. The Lantern seemed to provide some measure of warmth, despite not being lit by flame. The falling snow ahead would obscure her visibility; she would need to be careful not to lose her way. Taking a deep breath, she dove off the island, and entered the storm.

She had flown in storms, before. It had been reckless of her, but she had learned from the experience. Fighting the wind would tire her out. Instead, she rode it, flowing gracefully through the gale. The wind would push her to the left, and she would follow, using that momentum to roll and loop back to the right. A downburst would push her into a dive, and she would use that burst of speed to recover her altitude.

It was still difficult going. More than once, she had to flare and backwing to avoid an island that appeared out of the haze in front of her. It took longer than she expected to navigate the storm, and soon it began to grow dark. Soon she would have no visibility, so she needed to find someplace sheltered from the wind to land-

Her wing clipped a rock that she had missed, and the pain broke her hold on her form. She tumbled, disoriented, and landed in a drift of snow. Aching, she managed to stand up. The snow was up to her knees, making it difficult to walk. Even with the Lantern she could see perhaps ten feet ahead. But through the howling wind, she managed to catch the jingle of bells. The sound lead her to a pole, with a long ribbon and a string of small bells tied securely to it. There was another one, up ahead, so she followed the trail they made. Soon, she saw a light ahead – it was a brazier, burning bright, marking the entrance to a cave.

She stumbled inside, cold and weary. However, the cave was already occupied.

“My lady, welcome! It's an honor to receive you here,” said the Spirit Bear. “Stay, and rest a while.”

Auk was too out of breath to express her thanks, so she simply sat down against the wall, inclining her head to the giant bear whose ethereal form glittered blue, like ice.

“You remind me of Karah,” he said, indicating the crest on her shawl. “She was a dear friend of mine. I could tell you about her, to pass the time.”

“Please do,” said Auk, regaining some of her energy at the mention of her idol.

“Ah, I still remember the time when Karah was still a cub. It was her first visit to the Land of the Gods. Her clan was traveling through. I myself was young, barely a century, and as chance would have it they stopped for a rest near my home at the time.”

How curious, to think Karah was once a child!

“She came up to me,” continued the Bear. “She was still without words, but she hugged me and her heart spoke to me. Years later she came back, on her pilgrimage. She remembered me, one of her first memories. I was ready to offer her a pact, you know – in fact I did. But she had one already, with the Bird! We became good friends, though.”

She smiled at that. His voice was gentle and soothing, and she began to feel drowsy.

“And I was first to meet her after the Divide. The Creator had split itself to lock away a void growing in its heart. The world crumbled.”

“So there really was a Creator?”

“Indeed. The Creator gave Karah the task of keeping pieces of its being safe. Three fragments of great power, the Void locked in its prison. And one last piece: its hopes, dreams, and its love for the world. Karah came to me again, when the world was calm again, to present the last piece to me.”

He sighed, remembering fondly. “The cub was as small as Karah was when we first met. Her name was Meena.”

“Her daughter?” she asked, yawning.

“Mhm. I think you would have gotten along well with her.”

“But then how did the Void come to be? The Creator, or the people? And what-“

“That is enough, for now. I could tell you the answers, but that would rob you of the growth that comes in finding them. You must rest.”

She sighed petulantly, and though the Bear recognized an old friend in that face he said nothing.

The Bear woke her in the morning, with the wind still howling outside. “The last key is hidden just northeast of here. We are near the edge of the storm, so you should find it no trouble.”

She thanked him, and readied to leave.

“Ah, time flows so fast. My lady, I thank you for coming here. It was a great pleasure to relive the past for a short while. But the world is growing weary, and is missing something it once had. I hope for a great ending of this tale; it seems it's not entirely over yet.”

* * *

The final key was easy to find, now that she had directions. As before, she retrieved it, and flew onwards to the last temple. By afternoon, she had cleared the storm. Beyond, there were only a scant handful of snow-covered islands – and in the distance, a lone mountain, with an ancient monastery waiting within.

She glided for the most part, conserving her strength. There was no need to be hasty. Eventually, she reached the mountain. Circling, she saw old structures buried in snow. The entrance to the temple was frozen over. A winding path curved down sheer cliffs, and at the mountain’s foot was a bell tower with a dais.

She shifted back to stand on the dais, and the single bell in the tower tolled, sharp and clear. Up on the mountain, the ice covering the doors shattered as they creaked open. Eyeing the path up and the waist-high snow, she shifted and flew up to the entrance hall.

A grand mosaic covered the floor, and old runes ran around the outside border. It depicted a divine figure, floating in a sea of stars. Auk pulled out the Lantern for its warmth, teeth chattering as she deciphered a tale of the creation of the world. The great Dreamer, alone in Eternity, had dreamed a Veil, and behind that Veil, she dreamed a Creator.

She walked deeper into the temple. The memories here were despondent; the Divide must have cut off this monastery from the world, and she watched as the survivors dwindled. In one hall, half buried by drifting snow, a long table seated two ghostly figures. _So, it’s down to just us now…_

She found the Gateway, deep within. A large brazier sat in front of it, unlit. Auk stepped through the wall-that-was-not-a-wall. The realm beyond was a spectacular night sky, stars glittering in all directions. Ribbons of color, mysterious and beautiful, danced overhead – an aurora. She had never seen anything like it.

The last Caretaker God appeared to her; it looked like a fish, but it swam in the air (she had never seen a whale before, either).

**Come closer, little champion. I won't ruffle your feathers. I am the Watcher of the Veil. I guard this world from Eternity.**

**But I have spent many years trying to close the rifts that threaten this world.**

**Now, without the faith of your people, my powers are almost gone.**

**There isn't much left of the first dream of the Great Dreamer. The dream we call our home.**

**Did you know that the first dream brought forth the Creator?**

**His only weakness was his tender spot for your kind, little human. To create you, he linked his heart to yours.**

**But your hearts grew empty.**

**Shocked by the emptiness dwelling in itself, the Creator ripped the Void out of their heart.**

**But time changes many things, and a new little champion stands before me.**

**Listen now, champion. These are my last words.**

**This is the last of the three fragments Karah left in our care.**

**It all rests upon your shoulders now.**

* * *

A cold, steady wind blew from the north, and if she angled herself just right she could float on it and remain stationary. It was dark when she emerged from the temple, with the fragments of Creation buzzing inside her. This place had once been called the Roof of the World, before; now she sat on top of it, looking out at the stars. She meditated there, trying to grasp what she had learned. At long last, she understood. It was time to light the Lighthouse.

* * *

She traveled back. She told the others the whole story, starting from Karah’s shrine, because she felt it was important. She was also probably delaying what was next. She was very scared, but she would do it anyways. Her mother had always said that was what made her brave. Over the next few days, she flew a lot, so she could be alone with her thoughts. When she was ready, everyone gathered at the base of the Lighthouse.

She stood beneath it and reached for the fragments of Creation. This power was new to her, so she applied it clumsily, just sort of poking it until it resonated with the obelisk above her. A brilliant beam of pure light shot out, and the air was drenched in potential. She knew where the beam pointed – the Shrine of Creation.

Erin and Daina and John were excited, to be sure, and she accepted their enthusiasm and well-wishes with grace. But she turned to Medvin with a heavy heart.

“This is eerily similar to the text I translated...” he said. “At least it's not another Divide. What would we even call it? The greater divide?”

She smiled at that, just a little.

“I don't think your pilgrimage ends here, I'm afraid. Even though you have already gone further than all before you. Whatever it is that you will face at the end of this path, I am confident that you will, as always, come home safely, with an interesting story.”

He was not confident. But the fact that he tried to offer comfort, here, was a comfort in itself.

“You have found out so much...So much I never would have dreamed of understanding of the ancients and out past.”

She could hear in his voice how proud he was. Her eyes welled up, and she launched herself at him, hugging him tight.

In a low voice, so only she could hear, he said, “Oh, Auk. You are like a daughter to me.”

“I know. But my father already told me you’re not allowed. He says you’ll have to settle for being an uncle.”

He laughed, but it was a sad kind of laugh. “I’ll inform Jacan he has a new older brother at my earliest convenience, then.”

Slowly, she stepped back. Medvin collected himself, and looked to her with watery eyes.

“Go on, now. Follow the light. And Auk, please be careful.”

She did not say “I love you” or “Give my love to everyone back home” because he already knew. So she jumped, and shifted, and flew.

* * *

She did not follow the beam of light, exactly. She knew where the Shrine was; it was impossible to miss. Instead, she flew a meandering path, looping and spinning and diving and just relishing the freedom of the sky. She flew as if she would not fly again, because she knew, implicitly, that it was impossible for one to enter the Shrine of Creation and emerge without being fundamentally changed as a person.

But eventually she reached the black monolith, extending infinitely far down, as if it stood on the unseen bedrock of the world – no, more likely that it was the bedrock. She circled the triangular structure once, twice, but there was only one place to land; the balcony, carved out of one corner with geometric precision. The beam hit a floating obelisk, a mirror of the Lighthouse but much smaller, and it hummed with power. Beyond that was an immense set of doors, flanked by a pair of statues. (Of who?, she wondered. There was no way to tell.)

Auk landed, but did not approach the doors. Instead, she took the time to hold her memories of flying in her mind, trying to solidify them. She did the same for her memories of her family, friends, everyone she knew and had met and cared about. She had promised Rheif and Nomi, as they said their goodbyes, that she would come back soon; she had a terrible feeling she could not keep that promise.

Finally, she took a deep breath. Exhaled, slowly. Clutched the Lantern in both hands. Bolstered by its steady light, she stepped forwards. The great doors opened silently. It was a very loud silence. As she crossed the threshold, they closed behind her, and then she was alone.

Just like the temples, the space inside was crumbling, ancient. And just like the heart of each temple, the interior was too large to be physically inside of the structure. Auk began to walk; she did not know where to go, but she could feel the distant rumble of the Void, and followed that. Crossing bridges over expanses of darkness, descending broken stairs, the only light she had came from the Lantern.

She walked for a long time, feeling the Void grow ever stronger. It was close now, very close. The old Gods had been right (of course they had). It was pushing at its prison, close to breaking out. Suddenly, without warning, the Void’s influence surged along her path; it wasn’t searching for her, it did not even notice her, it was simply probing its cage for weakness, but Auk was enveloped by it and she was something that could be consumed, and so it consumed her.

Auk gasped, staggering, fighting to stay rooted in the world, but the Void absorbed her struggle. She collapsed, dimly aware that she had dropped the Lantern, her breathing stopped, her body failing.

And then the golden light of the Lantern passed over her, shielding her from the Void. It snapped back, like a dog on a chain, as it was once more restrained by its prison. The danger had passed. Auk sat up, heart racing, and looked back at the Lantern – it was still on the floor where she had dropped it, dark. Instead, Karah’s Light, warm and radiant, floated free, amorphous. It swirled around her, lifting her to her feet, coming to rest just in front of her.

Auk understood, now. ( _‘It never went out while she was alive’_ , the carving from that first shrine.) “Hello, Karah.”

The light spoke back without speaking.

_Hello, Auk. I am Karah. But I am also Karah’s daughter, and that daughter’s children, and her children’s children. And so I am you, Auk._

“You’ve been watching over me. This whole time. Do you watch all your descendants?”

_Yes._

“But you never answered my question. Am I the last? Why me? Why am I the one you guided here?”

 _I am sorry, child._ Auk could sense she spoke the truth. _Though my descendants are many, few have made the pilgrimage. Fewer still entered my shrine._

“So why not any of them? Because I happen to be the last? The last opportunity, the last to take the pilgrimage? Is that it?” Her temper flared, railing against the injustice of it all. She never asked for this!

_Auk, listen. Each one that came to the shrine, I offered to guide. But out of all of them – you were the only one brave enough to take the Lantern. No prophecies or omens could lead you here; the path you take is your own, shaped by you._

Auk trembled. It was true; while she never wanted this role, she had also refused to stand idle. She felt lighter, somehow, as if the weight of her old insecurities had faded. Her anger faded as well; she was left only with resignation.

“So what am I meant to do?”

_Keep going. I will shield you for as long as I can, but time is short._

The light floated forwards, and Auk followed.

_I will try to explain. Once, the Creator gave me a piece of its light – of its hopes, its dreams. Its power._

“I saw. The three pieces, from the temples.”

_Not three, Auk. Four. The last piece I guarded myself._

And Auk realized. “But now I hold the other three.”

_Yes. You will have to enter the prison of the Void. It is outside our world, and there I cannot help you. I am but a memory, and once I give you the last piece I will fade._

“Just like the caretaker Gods,” she murmured. The hunger of the Void was strong now. Too soon, they arrived at a gateway.

_Oh, child. I am sorry. There are so many things I want to tell you. So many things I would like to ask you. But there is not time. These last steps are not for me to wander. It's up to you now. This is where you will find the Void. You must finish what the Creator started, and make whole what was shattered. I know you can do it, Auk._

_This is goodbye, I'm afraid._

_I believe in you._

“Goodbye, Karah. Thank you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes as the light faded.

Auk felt the now-familiar sensation as the fourth piece found its home in her. It slotted together, fitting neatly with the others. But it was not complete. Not yet. She knew, now, what she was going to be. She was still Auk, but she was so close to being something more. It was beautiful in its simplicity. It was also terrifying.

The Creator had given a piece of itself to humans, but they had turned it rotten with greed. The Creator tore out the darkness and imprisoned it, causing the Great Divide. But if the humans had healed their hearts, then so could the Void. It was another piece of the Creator, after all.

She did not turn back. She knew what needed to happen, now. Auk-but-more stepped out of the world.

* * *

It is impossible to say what happened next. The Void and its prison waited outside the world itself, and such a place is necessarily beyond the understanding of mortals. But, if you want to imagine what occurred there, it might have been this:

* * *

The Void had been trapped for so long, but now it was nearly free. For so long it had been starved. For so long it had grasped at the smallest pieces of the world, devouring in miniscule portions, but nothing it found could fulfill its purpose. Soon, it would devour the world.

And it was happening now. The gateway to its prison opened. The Void was wary, though – this was too easy. It paused a moment, and found a single, tiny being standing in its path. It reached out to snatch it up, to unmake it. The figure held up an arm, as if it were possible to ward off such a blow.

The unstoppable force met an immoveable object. The gargantuan hand of the Void bounced off the tiny being. Never had the Void been unable to take – this was unprecedented. It tried again, pushing against whatever force protected the figure. The Void could not touch it. The figure raised one hand, glowing white, and reached out to touch the Void instead.

And the Void saw the figure for what it truly was – the missing piece it had hungered for, without even knowing it, all this time. The Void, finally satiated, stopped. The final fragment met the rest.

The Creator woke up, whole once more.

* * *

The sun rose that morning on a world free of black rocks. They had vanished overnight, just as suddenly as they had appeared. The sunrise itself seemed special, more vibrant, in such a way that everyone, everywhere, felt compelled to watch.

The vibrant orange of the sky seemed to have a life of its own. It began dancing, floating and leaping and swooping in every direction, filling the heavens. And though they could not tell how, exactly, everyone watching knew that the light was at once joyful, happy to be alive, and sad, grieving the loss of a dear friend. As the sun breached the horizon, the light departed, weaving a song of farewell as it went; and for the briefest of moments, before it vanished altogether, the silhouette of a falcon blazed in the sky.

And everywhere, the land began to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray I did it! A completed story!  
> This was such a beautiful little game, with rich lore, and it just sucked me in. And of course I had to make a bunch of original characters to populate the village, and I really like them, but none of them got to be part of the pilgrimage. Oh well.  
> The ending is wonderfully ambiguous, and I wanted to leave it there, but then I had an idea for a small coda, with just the tiniest bit of closure.
> 
> (wow how did i manage to write all this i should be working on my thesis send help)


End file.
